Vegas Boys

I woke up almost an hour early on September 1st and felt sick.

I must have emptied half my closet, looking for the perfect thing to wear on my first day of school; of course, nothing seemed good enough, so I finally just settled on my favorite pair of jeans and a fitted sky blue top that brought out my eyes and matched the ring Dad had given me. I spent an insane amount of time on my hair and make-up and didn't look all that much better for my efforts, but that was okay: since I had woken up way too early and felt too queasy to eat anything, I had time to burn.

The high school I would be attending was only a couple of blocks away, so there was really no sense in driving. I was just going to walk there and back; in bad weather, Dad could drop me off on the way to work. I didn't mind walking--in fact I was kind of looking forward to it: it would give me time to be alone and think for a little while before I had to face school.

"Did you eat something?" asked Dad concernedly as I slung my bookbag over my shoulder and took a final look at myself in the reflection on the microwave.

"Yeah," I lied. I was afraid I would just throw up whatever I ate, but there was no reason for Dad to worry.

"Have a good day, honey," said Dad, patting my arm and pecking me lightly on the forehead. He was getting a lot better at the whole expressing emotion thing. "You'll be fine."

I nodded a little for his sake, but couldn't help but think that I was kidding myself. I was going into my junior year of high school in Las Vegas, of all places, without knowing anyone and without having more than ten days to prepare, and I was going to be fine? Yeah, right.

Oh, well, I thought as I made my way down the front walk, at least I know where I stand. Things can't get any worse than this, right?

"Kelsey?"

Wrong.

For a moment, I considered ignoring him, walking on and pretending I hadn't heard. But I knew he'd just keep calling after me until he finally caught up and I was forced to acknowledge him.

So I turned around, a little reluctantly, to face him, sighing.

Somehow, in all the anger and despair and confusion of the past week or two, I'd completely forgotten about Brendon. Of course he must still be in high school--the same high school I was enrolled in. I suppressed a groan as he approached me, grinning--though even the broad smile he wore now was subdued compared to the way he used to beam at me, at the start of the summer.

"Hey, Kels," said Brendon cheerfully, as if we were best friends and ran into each other like this every day. "I thought you were just staying for the summer?"

I shrugged and turned back around, continuing on my former path. "Change of plans."

"So...how long are you staying now?" he asked, catching up to me just like I knew he would and matching my stride.

I shrugged again, refusing to look at him. "'Till Christmas," I replied curtly.

"Oh," was all Brendon said. "So, uh, I'm a senior this year. You too?"

"No, I'm a junior," I told him, feeling relieved that I might not have any classes with him, at least.

I don't know why I was so intent on avoiding him. He was cute and funny and obviously wanted to be friends, but I just kept pushing him away again and again. Maybe it was the distrust, or maybe it was just a resentment left over from our previous confrontations that I just couldn't get past. Either way, I wanted nothing to do with him.

"Oh." He sounded a little crestfallen. "Well, we might still have some classes together. What are you taking?"

"I don't really remember," I lied. I knew exactly what I was taking: English III, Chemistry, American History, Drama...

He wouldn't be deterred. "Well, if you need help finding any of your classes or anything, I can show you around. It's a big school, you know, it can be kind of confusing... I was perpetually lost my entire freshmen year. I kept asking seniors directions and they'd purposely point me the wrong way. Can't wait to keep up the tradition now that I'm a senior." Brendon grinned mischievously, winking at me.

Throughout his little anecdote, I stared straight ahead determinedly, carefully controlling my expression. It was hard not to smile at how hard he was trying to win me over, if not at what he was actually saying, but I wanted to give him the message that I didn't really want to talk to him. I felt kind of bad for treating him like that--especially since a part of me desperately wanted to let him make friends with me.

But the other part was afraid.

I think that's what it was--I was afraid of him. I'd never been approached by anyone, especially by a boy, like I had been approached by Brendon before. No one had ever been so determined to make me like them. It should have been nice, but it scared me, especially since I felt undeserving of so much attention.

"So...excited about your first day?" asked Brendon finally to break the awkward silence.

"Not really," I muttered unenthusiastically.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine."

I couldn't help but skeptically arch an eyebrow at him. "You think so?"

"Oh yeah," Brendon insisted, glad to get some sort of a response out of me. "I mean, come on. You're smart and pretty--"

"You don't know that," I interrupted sharply.

He was confused. "Don't know...?"

"You don't know that I'm smart," I clarified.

"Sure I do," said Brendon confidently.

"How?" I challenged.

"I can just tell."

I snorted.

"You don't think you're smart?" guessed Brendon.

"No."

"You don't think you're pretty, either." It was a statement, not a question.

I stopped dead in my tracks in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugged, smirking. "I can just tell."

I rolled my eyes and walked away, quickening my stride to try and get the point across that I wanted to get away from him.

Brendon either didn't notice or didn't care, as he just hurried up to continue walking alongside me. "Well," he said, his voice coming out in a gasp of breath because I was halfway running to get away from him, and he was struggling to keep up with me, "I think you're pretty--"

I stopped walking again, and he was a few steps ahead of me before he caught on and stopped as well. "Why?" I demanded.

"...Why do I think you're pretty?" asked Brendon, frowning.

"No. Why are you still talking to me?"

I hadn't planned on being so painfully blunt--the words just fell out of my mouth of their own accord--and in the split second after I uttered them, they sounded so mean that I half wished I could take them back. I'd been expecting Brendon's handsome face to take on a pained expression, but instead, he just smiled a little.

"Come on," said Brendon quietly, laughing a little. "You can't shake me off that easily."

I let out a growl of frustration and pushed past him, purposefully ignoring him all the way to school.